Wary
by Loise
Summary: AU. Young businessman Quatre Winner is having a hard time making up his mind. Quatre/Trowa.


Wary

* * *

"I didn't know genies existed," Quatre said calmly, which all things considered, was quite admirable.

The genie shrugged, one bright green eye still only visible. "We're a little like fairies. If you don't believe in us, we disappear... and get a retirement package. The union organised that eons ago. Fairies union is utter shite."

"Oh," Quatre said thoughtfully, twisting the rather plain lamp in his hands around. "So I get three wishes?"

"Union cut it down to one," Trowa said. "Too much havoc and stress otherwise. Do you know how hard it is to achieve world domination with a dozen others have wished it at the same time? First you have to establish precedent... and on you go." He shook his head wearily.

"Still, you would think that many people would still wish that first," Quatre pointed out.

"Many people wish for eternal life," Trowa said and his tone grew darker. "Or try to wish for someone long dead to be alive again. That is the only desire you cannot wish for."

"Life eternal," Quatre said casually. "I imagine it's not all that's it is cracked up to be?"

"It has it's benefits," Trowa murmured and for some reason Quatre thought that his intriguing green eye had started to glow. "Is that what you wish for?"

Quatre shook his head. "No, I haven't made up my mind what to wish for yet. It's rather.. confronting to have your very belief system crumble."

"You'll get over it," Trowa advised.

* * *

"Fashion has improved," Trowa noted, eying himself in the mirror critically. "Of course, I doubt it could have gotten any more than the eighties..." He shuddered.

"Was that the last time you... were rubbed?" Quatre asked curiously.

"The correct Union word is _Svetxxaz_," Trowa murmured. "Which made a lot more sense when the people who spoke the language existed. Before someone wished they would be washed away in a flood. That happens more often than you think, actually. But commonly we genies use the term _Release_. At least in this language." He paused and straightened his tie. "No, I was Released twice during the nineties. Once to launch a film career. The other..." Trowa grinned, "Involved a goat."

"Ah," said Quatre and decided to leave it there.

"Thank you for the suit," Trowa said. "But you need not have gone to these lengths."

"You did say it was a requirement for you to remain close to me at least until I make my wish," Quatre pointed out.

"But you could have dressed me in scraps of silk and chains of gold," Trowa murmured.

"That happened often?" Quatre asked, leaning forward.

"Often enough," Trowa answered, smiling.

Quatre mused about this for a time before shaking himself. "And besides," Quatre sighed, "It would provoke more attention if you weren't dressed in a suit that cost five thousand dollars."

"You're already rich," Trowa noted, "Handsome," here Quatre blushed. "No mate however. What to wish for indeed? I may be here a while..."

"Yes," Quatre said, leaning back and giving Trowa the once over. "You may just be staying a while."

* * *

Trowa was quiet for some time after Quatre had concluded the board meeting. He seemed to be mulling.

"Those board meetings," Trowa said finally. "How often do they happen?"

"Not too often," Quatre said warmly, laughing a little as the horror in Trowa's face faded. "Usually when something important happens. A takeover, someone dies on the board, something like that."

"That is good," Trowa murmured. "Would you wish for the no more board meetings?"

"No," Quatre said, tilting his head to one side. "They're necessary for running the business. It's a good place to cut problems at the bud. To finalise plans without endless emailing. That and I can keep an eye on people who don't quite like me."

"You could wish those people away," Trowa whispered. "As if they never existed."

Quatre face's screwed until into something quiet peculiar before he shook his head. "No again. Who would know who would replace them? And besides, they may dislike me intensely but they usually agree with my business sense."

"Hmm," Trowa hummed thoughtfully, rocking back on his feet.

* * *

"Him? He's well... a personal assistant of sorts," Quatre said.

Dorothy raised a brow. Trowa absently thought it one of the best eyebrow raisings in all of his lifetime. "Really?" She murmured, almost sweetly, yet with enough innuendo it could make a courtesan blush. "How personal?"

"He's simply here to fulfill my wishes," Quatre replied, smiling over the table at Dorothy.

"How lovely of him," Dorothy said. "But does he have a name?"

For a moment Quatre looked lost.

"Of course I do," said Trowa, coming to Quatre's rescue. "I am Trowa Barton. At your service, madame."

"And he has manners! Quite extraordinary! You simply must tell me where you got him. I might just want one of my own," Dorothy said, leaning forward and regarding Trowa with a critical eye.

"Perhaps some day I'll tell you," Quatre said cryptically. Dorothy was still staring at Trowa critically. Her intense stare delving into him. Trowa almost felt uncertain for the first time in hundreds of years.

"Our next lunch, then?" Dorothy murmured. "But it can't be next week, I'll be in Istanbul."

"Maybe," Quatre hedged again.

When Dorothy was gone Trowa turned to Quatre and said, "I don't think I'll be staying for lunch, _next time_."

"Yes," Quatre laughed, "Dorothy has that effect on some people. But she can be quite charming when she puts her mind to it. Though that rarely happens..."

Trowa failed to reconcile 'charming' and 'Dorothy' so merely shrugged.

"She approves of you," Quatre said, quite suddenly.

"Oh?" Trowa said. But Quatre remained silent on the matter.

* * *

"I'm sorry, for not knowing your name. I did not even know if genies had names," Quatre said sheepishly. "I'm stupid for not asking."

"I don't give my name to anyone," Trowa murmured. "That is a name I go by, my true name is kept a secret."

"Names have powers?"

"Yes, unlike you humans, who brandish their names on cards, we genies must keep out names secret. If not, we suffer," Trowa said. "Losing one's name is paramount to losing one's self."

"A form of identity theft?" Quatre asked.

"Something like that," Trowa replied.

* * *

"You work a lot," Trowa noted, stretching idly as he watched Quatre frown and mutter something. "Don't you wish you had more time to relax and have fun?"

"That was tricky of you," Quatre said without looking up from his paperwork.

"I try," Trowa said, shrugging. "But don't you want to have more time to relax and have fun?"

"In some ways, yes, but I'm in the middle of an important deal right now," Quatre murmured, frowning.

"You always say that," Trowa said.

"I do? Well, maybe, but what I am doing helps many people... as well as make me a very rich man," Quatre said, finally looking up and grinning quickly at Trowa.

"A simple wish could make you richer than whole worlds, than all the people is all existence combined. You would never need to work, never need to worry about helping other people. A simple wish," Trowa repeated.

"That would take the meaning out of what I do," Quatre said. "And what would I do? Party all year round? Wouldn't that get boring?"

"Hundreds would have taken that wish without a second thought," Trowa murmured. "To live a life of luxury and leisure."

"It's not me," Quatre said simply.

"Have you made up your mind then? On what to wish for?" Trowa asked, tapping his fingers impatiently.

Quatre smiled. "Not yet."

* * *

"Human sex is usually the same," Trowa murmured.

Ah, Quatre thought, there goes the afterglow. "Really?"

"Usually," Trowa repeated then turned and half smiled at Quatre. "I remember I was once the genie of a princess who adored the taste of honey, she order a huge bath tub to be filled with honey and then she slowly licked it off me."

"Oh?" Quatre murmured, stretching. "What did she wish for?"

"The return of her virginity," Trowa said, "It was needed it those times, for one of her class. And she certainly needed it." Trowa laughed and trailed a finger down Quatre's side. "You're tempting me," he stated.

"Teasing, actually," Quatre said, sitting up and giving Trowa an amused stare. "I have work to do."

"Always work to do," Trowa said with disappointment. "One day, one morning. Can't your peons be without you for one day?"

"They're my employees," Quatre said, slipping out of bed and shaking a finger at Trowa. "I'm about to close an important deal today. Then I'm taking a vacation. You'll be coming, of course."

"Of course," Trowa said. "Where you go, I must follow."

Quatre shivered. "Yes," he said awkwardly. "After the vacation," he said slowly. "I will make my wish."

Trowa stilled. "If that is what you want."

* * *

"Snow," Trowa said, a hint of wonder in his voice.

"You've seen it before, haven't you? In all your years I would have thought," Quatre then bit his lip and looked away.

"For some reason I was usually Released in the warm months and soon returned to my lamp within a few moons at the most," Trowa said softly, still staring out the window. "I've only seen snow twice before."

"When?"

"The first time was when a man from the far north, imprisoned for twenty years, had finally risen to a high post within the palace. He wished for snow," Trowa murmured. "I had only heard tales of it, but my powers could take my feeble imagination and turn it into reality. The man cried before I left."

Trowa traced a complex pattern on the glass before putting his hands in his lap.

"The last time was only a couple hundred years ago," Trowa continued. "I was taken further north than I had ever been before. The man wished for an ice maiden to be built, an exact replica of his dead lover. Had wished for her to be returned to him but that could not be so. I later heard a tale of the man. He stayed with the maiden all winter and died when she melted."

"How sad," Quatre said.

"It is what he wished for," Trowa muttered.

* * *

The fire was roaring when Quatre opened his eyes. "You lit it," he said and then shook himself out of his sleep haze. "Thank you."

"One of my other skills," Trowa said. He was crouching in front of the fire, back bent and naked. Quatre could not see his face.

Quatre swung his legs over the bed's side and trod over to Trowa. He placed a hand on Trowa's neck and stroked Trowa's spine down to the very base. Trowa shuddered.

"You're unhappy," Quatre murmured. Trowa swung around and glared at Quatre, both eyes visible, both angry.

He was breathing deeply. "I'm not," Trowa snapped. "I'm disappointed in you. I thought you would be above wishes. You don't have to make a wish, I would go back into my lamp when you died!"

"I - I just want you to be happy," Quatre muttered.

"Is that your wish?" Trowa demanded.

"No!" Quatre said. "I - "

"Then I can feel what I what. You can't stop that," Trowa exclaimed, turning his back again on Quatre. "We only have a couple days until you make your wish. Then you won't have to put up with me."

* * *

"Are you ready for you wish?" Trowa said, lips pursed.

"Yes," Quatre murmured.

"Are you sure?" Trowa asked.

"I'm sure," Quatre said, nodding his head.

"Then... then what do you wish for?" Trowa asked.

"I didn't know what to wish for when you first asked that question. I suppose world peace flashed through my mind. The end of poverty for now and forever," Quatre smiled, "Something like that."

"And?"

"In the end, I decided that I couldn't, can't, won't wish for that. I'm probably being terribly, horribly selfish when I say this, Trowa, but," Quatre paused and threaded his fingers together. "I want to wish that you're set free, of being a genie, I wish you to be a healthy human."

Trowa stared at Quatre for a long moment before swallowing. He still had his eyes on Quatre when he nodded. "Your wish has been accomplished," he said.

"You haven't changed," Quatre murmured, stepping forward one step. "Not at all."

"No," Trowa said, "This is my form, whether I am genie or human. This is who I am."

"I had thought, that you might change and," Quatre was tracing Trowa's face with his fingertips. Trowa closed his eyes and leaned forward slightly, a small smile on his lips. "I didn't want that. I wanted you as you were, are and I got what I wished for," he said, laughing and then Trowa was kissing him and holding him tightly.

"Never, never scare me like that again," Trowa said firmly, kissing the edge of Quatre's left eyebrow, then the corner of his lip, then the tip of his nose. Everywhere.

"Never," Quatre said, wrapping his own arms around Trowa and hugging him tight.

"The union might not like this," Trowa whispered, "But I couldn't care less!" 


End file.
